CHAPTER X.
Perplexities
--
Our hunters plan their
escape
--
Unexpected interruption
--
The tables
turned
--
Crusoe mounts guard
--
The escape
.
Dick Varley sat before the fire ruminating. We
do not mean to assert that Dick had been previously
eating grass. By no means. For several days
past he had been mentally subsisting on the remarkable
things that he heard and saw in the Pawnee village,
and wondering how he was to get away without being
scalped. He was now chewing the cud of this intellectual
fare. We therefore repeat emphatically--in case any
reader should have presumed to contradict us--that
Dick Varley sat before the fire
ruminating
!
Joe Blunt likewise sat by the fire along with him,
ruminating too, and smoking besides. Henri also sat
there smoking, and looking a little the worse of his
late supper.
"I don't like the look o' things," said Joe, blowing
a whiff of smoke slowly from his lips, and watching it
as it ascended into the still air. "That blackguard
Mahtawa is determined not to let us off till he gits all
our goods; an' if he gits them, he may as well take our
scalps too, for we would come poor speed in the prairies
without guns, horses, or goods."
Dick looked at his friend with an expression of concern.
"What's to be done?" said he.
"Ve must escape," answered Henri; but his tone was
not a hopeful one, for he knew the danger of their
position better than Dick.
"Ay, we must escape--at least we must try," said
Joe. "But I'll make one more effort to smooth over
San-it-sa-rish, an' git him to snub that villain Mahtawa."
Just as he spoke the villain in question entered the
tent with a bold, haughty air, and sat down before the
fire in sullen silence. For some minutes no one spoke,
and Henri, who happened at the time to be examining
the locks of Dick's rifle, continued to inspect them with
an appearance of careless indifference that he was far
from feeling.
Now, this rifle of Dick's had become a source of
unceasing wonder to the Indians--wonder which was
greatly increased by the fact that no one could discharge
it but himself. Dick had, during his short stay at the
Pawnee village, amused himself and the savages by exhibiting
his marvellous powers with the "silver rifle."
Since it had been won by him at the memorable match
in the Mustang Valley, it had scarce ever been out of
his hand, so that he had become decidedly the best shot
in the settlement, could "bark" squirrels (that is, hit
the bark of the branch on which a squirrel happened
to be standing, and so kill it by the concussion alone),
and could "drive the nail" every shot. The silver rifle,
as we have said, became "great medicine" to the Red-men
when they saw it kill at a distance which the few
wretched guns they had obtained from the fur-traders
could not even send a spent ball to. The double shot,
too, filled them with wonder and admiration; but that
which they regarded with an almost supernatural feeling
of curiosity was the percussion cap, which, in Dick's
hands, always exploded, but in theirs was utterly useless!
This result was simply owing to the fact that Dick,
after firing, handed the rifle to the Indians without
renewing the cap; so that when they loaded and attempted
to fire, of course it merely snapped. When he
wished again to fire, he adroitly exchanged the old cap
for a new one. He was immensely tickled by the
solemn looks of the Indians at this most incomprehensible
of all "medicines," and kept them for some days
in ignorance of the true cause, intending to reveal it
before he left. But circumstances now arose which
banished all trifling thoughts from his mind.
Mahtawa raised his head suddenly, and said, pointing
to the silver rifle, "Mahtawa wishes to have the two-shotted
medicine gun. He will give his best horse in exchange."
"Mahtawa is liberal," answered Joe; "but the pale-faced
youth cannot part with it. He has far to travel,
and must shoot buffaloes by the way."
"The pale-faced youth shall have a bow and arrows
to shoot the buffalo," rejoined the Indian.
"He cannot use the bow and arrow," answered Joe.
"He has not been trained like the Red-man."
Mahtawa was silent for a few seconds, and his dark
brows frowned more heavily than ever over his eyes.
"The Pale-faces are too bold," he exclaimed, working
himself into a passion. "They are in the power of
Mahtawa. If they will not give the gun he will take
it."
He sprang suddenly to his feet as he spoke, and
snatched the rifle from Henri's hand.
Henri being ignorant of the language had not been
able to understand the foregoing conversation, although
he saw well enough that it was not an agreeable one;
but no sooner did he find himself thus rudely and unexpectedly
deprived of the rifle than he jumped up,
wrenched it in a twinkling from the Indian's grasp, and
hurled him violently out of the tent.
In a moment Mahtawa drew his knife, uttered a
savage yell, and sprang on the reckless hunter, who,
however, caught his wrist, and held it as if in a vice.
The yell brought a dozen warriors instantly to the spot,
and before Dick had time to recover from his astonishment,
Henri was surrounded and pinioned despite his
herculean struggles.
Before Dick could move, Joe Blunt grasped his arm,
and whispered quickly, "Don't rise. You can't help
him. They daren't kill him till San-it-sa-rish agrees."
Though much surprised, Dick obeyed, but it required
all his efforts, both of voice and hand, to control Crusoe,
whose mind was much too honest and straightforward
to understand such subtle pieces of diplomacy, and who
strove to rush to the rescue of his ill-used friend.
When the tumult had partly subsided, Joe Blunt rose
and said,--"Have the Pawnee braves turned traitors that they
draw the knife against those who have smoked with them the pipe of
peace
and eaten their maize? The
Pale-faces are three; the Pawnees are thousands. If
evil has been done, let it be laid before the chief.
Mahtawa wishes to have the medicine gun. Although
we said, No, we could not part with it, he tried to take
it by force. Are we to go back to the great chief of
the Pale-faces and say that the Pawnees are thieves?
Are the Pale-faces henceforth to tell their children when
they steal, 'That is bad; that is like the Pawnee?'
No; this must not be. The rifle shall be restored, and
we will forget this disagreement. Is it not so?"
There was an evident disposition on the part of
many of the Indians, with whom Mahtawa was no favourite,
to applaud this speech; but the wily chief sprang
forward, and, with flashing eyes, sought to turn the
tables.
"The Pale-face speaks with soft words, but his heart
is false. Is he not going to make peace with the enemies
of the Pawnee? Is he not going to take goods to
them, and make them gifts and promises? The Pale-faces
are spies. They come to see the weakness of the
Pawnee camp; but they have found that it is strong.
Shall we suffer the false hearts to escape? Shall they
live? No; we will hang their scalps in our wigwams,
for they have
struck a chief
, and we will keep all their
goods for our squaws--wah!"
This allusion to keeping all the goods had more effect
on the minds of the vacillating savages than the chief's
eloquence. But a new turn was given to their thoughts
by Joe Blunt remarking in a quiet, almost contemptuous
tone,--
"Mahtawa is not the
great
chief."
"True, true," they cried, and immediately hurried to
the tent of San-it-sa-rish.
Once again this chief stood between the hunters and
the savages, who wanted but a signal to fall on them.
There was a long palaver, which ended in Henri being
set at liberty and the rifle being restored.
That evening, as the three friends sat beside their
fire eating their supper of boiled maize and buffalo meat,
they laughed and talked as carelessly as ever; but the
gaiety was assumed, for they were at the time planning
their escape from a tribe which, they foresaw, would
not long refrain from carrying out their wishes, and
robbing, perhaps murdering them.
"Ye see," said Joe with a perplexed air, while he
drew a piece of live charcoal from the fire with his
fingers and lighted his pipe--"ye see, there's more difficulties
in the way o' gettin' off than ye think--"
"Oh, nivare mind de difficulties," interrupted Henri,
whose wrath at the treatment he had received had not
yet cooled down. "Ve must jump on de best horses
ve can git hold, shake our fists at de red reptiles, and
go away fast as ve can. De best hoss
must
vin de
race."
Joe shook his head. "A hundred arrows would be
in our backs before we got twenty yards from the
camp. Besides, we can't tell which are the best horses.
Our own are the best in my 'pinion, but how are we to
git' em?"
"I know who has charge o' them," said Dick. "I
saw them grazing near the tent o' that poor squaw
whose baby was saved by Crusoe. Either her husband
looks after them or some neighbours."
"That's well," said Joe. "That's one o' my difficulties
gone."
"What are the others?"
"Well, d'ye see, they're troublesome. We can't git
the horses out o' camp without bein' seen, for the red
rascals would see what we were at in a jiffy. Then, if
we do git 'em out, we can't go off without our bales,
an' we needn't think to take 'em from under the nose
o' the chief and his squaws without bein' axed questions.
To go off without them would niver do at all."
"Joe," said Dick earnestly, "I've hit on a plan."
"Have ye, Dick--what is't?"
"Come and I'll let ye see," answered Dick, rising
hastily and quitting the tent, followed by his comrades
and his faithful dog.
It may be as well to remark here, that no restraint
whatever had yet been put on the movements of our
hunters as long as they kept to their legs, for it was
well known that any attempt by men on foot to escape
from mounted Indians on the plains would be hopeless.
Moreover, the savages thought that as long as there was
a prospect of their being allowed to depart peaceably
with their goods, they would not be so mad as to fly
from the camp, and, by so doing, risk their lives and
declare war with their entertainers. They had therefore
been permitted to wander unchecked, as yet, far
beyond the outskirts of the camp, and amuse themselves
in paddling about the lake in the small Indian canoes
and shooting wild-fowl.
Dick now led the way through the labyrinths of
tents in the direction of the lake, and they talked and
laughed loudly, and whistled to Crusoe as they went,
in order to prevent their purpose being suspected. For
the purpose of further disarming suspicion, they went
without their rifles. Dick explained his plan by the
way, and it was at once warmly approved of by his
comrades.
On reaching the lake they launched a small canoe,
into which Crusoe was ordered to jump; then, embarking,
they paddled swiftly to the opposite shore, singing
a canoe song as they dipped their paddles in the moonlit
waters of the lake. Arrived at the other side, they
hauled the canoe up and hurried through the thin belt
of wood and willows that intervened between the lake
and the prairie. Here they paused.
"Is that the bluff, Joe?"
"No, Dick; that's too near. T'other one'll be best--far
away to the right. It's a little one, and there's
others near it. The sharp eyes o' the Redskins won't
be so likely to be prowlin' there."
"Come on, then; but we'll have to take down by the
lake first."
In a few minutes the hunters were threading their
way through the outskirts of the wood at a rapid trot,
in the opposite direction from the bluff, or wooded knoll,
which they wished to reach. This they did lest prying
eyes should have followed them. In quarter of an hour
they turned at right angles to their track, and struck
straight out into the prairie, and after a long run they
edged round and came in upon the bluff from behind.
It was merely a collection of stunted but thick-growing
willows.
Forcing their way into the centre of this they began
to examine it.
"It'll do," said Joe.
"De very ting," remarked Henri.
"Come here, Crusoe."
Crusoe bounded to his master's side, and looked up
in his face.
"Look at this place, pup; smell it well."
Crusoe instantly set off all round among the willows,
in and out, snuffing everywhere, and whining with excitement.
"Come here, good pup; that will do. Now, lads,
we'll go back." So saying, Dick and his friends left
the bluff, and retraced their steps to the camp. Before
they had gone far, however, Joe halted, and said,--
"D'ye know, Dick, I doubt if the pup's so cliver as
ye think. What if he don't quite onderstand ye?"
Dick replied by taking off his cap and throwing it
down, at the same time exclaiming, "Take it yonder,
pup," and pointing with his hand towards the bluff.
The dog seized the cap, and went off with it at full
speed towards the willows, where it left it, and came
galloping back for the expected reward--not now, as in
days of old, a bit of meat, but a gentle stroke of its
head and a hearty clap on its shaggy side.
"Good pup! go now an' fetch it."
Away he went with a bound, and in a few seconds
came back and deposited the cap at his master's feet.
"Will that do?" asked Dick, triumphantly.
"Ay, lad, it will. The pup's worth its weight in
goold."
"Oui, I have said, and I say it agen, de dog is
human
,
so him is. If not, fat am he?"
Without pausing to reply to this perplexing question,
Dick stepped forward again, and in half-an-hour or
so they were back in the camp.
"Now for
your
part of the work, Joe. Yonder's the
squaw that owns the half-drowned baby. Everything
depends on her."
Dick pointed to the Indian woman as he spoke. She
was sitting beside her tent, and playing at her knee
was the identical youngster who had been saved by
Crusoe.
"I'll manage it," said Joe, and walked towards her,
while Dick and Henri returned to the chief's tent.
"Does the Pawnee woman thank the Great Spirit
that her child is saved?" began Joe as he came up.
"She does," answered the woman, looking up at the
hunter. "And her heart is warm to the Pale-faces."
After a short silence Joe continued,--
"The Pawnee chiefs do not love the Pale-faces.
Some of them hate them."
"The Dark Flower knows it," answered the woman;
"she is sorry. She would help the Pale-faces if she
could."
This was uttered in a low tone, and with a meaning
glance of the eye.
Joe hesitated again--could he trust her? Yes; the
feelings that filled her breast and prompted her words
were not those of the Indian just now--they were those of a
mother
,
whose gratitude was too full for utterance.
"Will the Dark Flower," said Joe, catching the name
she had given herself, "help the Pale-face if he opens
his heart to her? Will she risk the anger of her
nation?"
"She will," replied the woman; "she will do what
she can."
Joe and his dark friend now dropped their high-sounding
style of speech, and spoke for some minutes
rapidly in an undertone. It was finally arranged that
on a given day, at a certain hour, the woman should
take the four horses down the shores of the lake to
its lower end, as if she were going for firewood, there
cross the creek at the ford, and drive them to the
willow bluff, and guard them till the hunters should
arrive.
Having settled this, Joe returned to the tent and
informed his comrades of his success.
During the next three days Joe kept the Indians in
good-humour by giving them one or two trinkets, and
speaking in glowing terms of the riches of the white
men, and the readiness with which they would part
with them to the savages if they would only make
peace.
Meanwhile, during the dark hours of each night,
Dick managed to abstract small quantities of goods
from their pack, in room of which he stuffed in pieces
of leather to keep up the size and appearance. The
goods thus taken out he concealed about his person, and
went off with a careless swagger to the outskirts of
the village, with Crusoe at his heels. Arrived there,
he tied the goods in a small piece of deerskin, and gave
the bundle to the dog, with the injunction, "Take it
yonder, pup."
Crusoe took it up at once, darted off at full speed
with the bundle in his mouth, down the shore of the
lake towards the ford of the river, and was soon lost
to view. In this way, little by little, the goods were
conveyed by the faithful dog to the willow bluff and
left there, while the stuffed pack still remained in safe
keeping in the chiefs tent.
Joe did not at first like the idea of thus sneaking off
from the camp, and more than once made strong efforts
to induce San-it-sa-rish to let him go; but even that
chief's countenance was not so favourable as it had been.
It was clear that he could not make up his mind to let
slip so good a chance of obtaining guns, powder and
shot, horses, and goods, without any trouble; so Joe
made up his mind to give them the slip at once.
A dark night was chosen for the attempt, and the
Indian woman went off with the horses to the place
where firewood for the camp was usually cut. Unfortunately,
the suspicion of that wily savage Mahtawa
had been awakened, and he stuck close to the hunters
all day--not knowing what was going on, but feeling
convinced that something was brewing which he resolved
to watch, without mentioning his suspicions to
any one.
"I think that villain's away at last," whispered Joe
to his comrades. "It's time to go, lads; the moon
won't be up for an hour. Come along."
"Have ye got the big powder-horn, Joe?"
"Ay, ay, all right."
"Stop! stop! my knife, my couteau. Ah, here I be!
Now, boy."
The three set off as usual, strolling carelessly to the
outskirts of the camp; then they quickened their pace,
and, gaining the lake, pushed off in a small canoe.
At the same moment Mahtawa stepped from the
bushes, leaped into another canoe, and followed them.
"Ha! he must die," muttered Henri.
"Not at all," said Joe; "we'll manage him without
that."
The chief landed and strode boldly up to them, for
he knew well that whatever their purpose might be
they would not venture to use their rifles within sound
of the camp at that hour of the night. As for their
knives, he could trust to his own active limbs and the
woods to escape and give the alarm if need be.
"The Pale-faces hunt very late," he said, with a
malicious grin. "Do they love the dark better than
the sunshine?"
"Not so," replied Joe, coolly; "but we love to
walk by the light of the moon. It will be up in less
than an hour, and we mean to take a long ramble to-night."
"The Pawnee chief loves to walk by the moon, too;
he will go with the Pale-faces."
"Good!" ejaculated Joe. "Come along, then."
The party immediately set forward, although the
savage was a little taken by surprise at the indifferent
way in which Joe received his proposal to accompany
them. He walked on to the edge of the prairie, however,
and then stopped.
"The Pale-faces must go alone," said he; "Mahtawa
will return to his tent."
Joe replied to this intimation by seizing him suddenly
by the throat and choking back the yell that would
otherwise have brought the Pawnee warriors rushing to
the scene of action in hundreds. Mahtawa's hand was
on the handle of his scalping-knife in a moment, but
before he could draw it his arms were glued to his sides
by the bear-like embrace of Henri, while Dick tied a
handkerchief quickly yet firmly round his mouth. The
whole thing was accomplished in two minutes. After
taking his knife and tomahawk away, they loosened
their gripe and escorted him swiftly over the prairie.
Mahtawa was perfectly submissive after the first
convulsive struggle was over. He knew that the men
who walked on each side of him grasping his arms were
more than his match singly, so he wisely made no resistance.
Hurrying him to a clump of small trees on the plain
which was so far distant from the village that a yell
could not be heard, they removed the bandage from
Mahtawa's mouth.
"
Must
he be kill?" inquired Henri, in a tone of
commiseration.
"Not at all," answered Joe; "we'll tie him to a tree
and leave him here."
"Then he vill be starve to deat'. Oh, dat is more
horrobell!"
"He must take his chance o' that. I've no doubt
his friends'll find him in a day or two, an' he's game
to last for a week or more. But you'll have to run to
the willow bluff, Dick, and bring a bit of line to tie him.
We can't spare it well; but there's no help."
"But there
is
help," retorted Dick. "Just order the
villain to climb into that tree."
"Why so, lad?"
"Don't ask questions, but do what I bid ye."
The hunter smiled for a moment as he turned to the
Indian, and ordered him to climb up a small tree near
to which he stood. Mahtawa looked surprised, but
there was no alternative. Joe's authoritative tone
brooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like a
monkey.
"Crusoe," said Dick, "
watch him!
"
The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, and
fixed his eyes on the savage with a glare that spoke
unutterable things. At the same time he displayed his
full complement of teeth, and uttered a sound like
distant thunder.
Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh outright.
"Come along; he's safe now," cried Dick, hurrying
away in the direction of the willow bluff, which they
soon reached, and found that the faithful squaw had
tied their steeds to the bushes, and, moreover, had
bundled up their goods into a pack, and strapped it on
the back of the pack-horse; but she had not remained
with them.
"Bless yer dark face!" ejaculated Joe, as he sprang
into the saddle and rode out of the clump of bushes.
He was followed immediately by the others, and in
three minutes they were flying over the plain at full
speed.
On gaining the last far-off ridge, that afforded a
distant view of the woods skirting the Pawnee camp,
they drew up; and Dick, putting his fingers to his
mouth, drew a long, shrill whistle.
It reached the willow bluff like a faint echo. At the
same moment the moon arose and more clearly revealed
Crusoe's cataleptic glare at the Indian chief, who, being
utterly unarmed, was at the dog's mercy. The instant
the whistle fell on his ear, however, he dropped his eyes,
covered his teeth, and, leaping through the bushes, flew
over the plains like an arrow. At the same instant
Mahtawa, descending from his tree, ran as fast as he
could towards the village, uttering the terrible war-whoop
when near enough to be heard. No sound sends
such a thrill through an Indian camp. Every warrior
flew to arms, and vaulted on his steed. So quickly
was the alarm given that in less than ten minutes a
thousand hoofs were thundering on the plain, and
faintly reached the ears of the fugitives.
Joe smiled. "It'll puzzle them to come up wi' nags
like ours. They're in prime condition, too--lots o' wind
in' em. If we only keep out o' badger holes we may
laugh at the red varmints."
Joe's opinion of Indian horses was correct. In a very
few minutes the sound of hoofs died away; but the
fugitives did not draw bridle during the remainder of
that night, for they knew not how long the pursuit
might be continued. By pond, and brook, and bluff
they passed, down in the grassy bottoms and over the
prairie waves--nor checked their headlong course till
the sun blazed over the level sweep of the eastern plain
as if it arose out of the mighty ocean.
Then they sprang from the saddle, and hastily set
about the preparation of their morning meal.